


Watching Over

by Eaven



Series: Dried Lavender and You [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Fluff, Kidfic, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8070088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eaven/pseuds/Eaven
Summary: Wandering the Fade while he sleeps, Solas encounters someone he did not expect.





	

Solas hasn‘t looked for her in months. But when he does, he finds her in a meadow full of flowers, Hope lingering nearby.  
He knows the spirit from other times and her other dreams, always staying close, watching over her.  
Considering Lienne is no Dreamer, her memories weave themselves together to form dreams out of her control, he feels reassured to know Hope is looking out for her.

He steps closer, just a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of her that reveals more than her slender back. Solas feels the faint brush of warmth against his cheek and knows that he caught Hope‘s attention. He lowers his head to greet the spirit, regarding it‘s moss-green form. The shimmer around Hope begins to pulsate, casting strange and twisted shadows in its nearest area.

Suddenly he hears Lienne laugh, a fragile sound, faint enough that he questions he even heard it in the first place. He focuses on her again, taking yet another step in her direction. She says something in elven, the rhythmic melody of the language interweaving with the rustle of the grass and the distant songs of birds.

She chuckles and Solas makes out another person. It is a child, a small boy sitting in front of her while picking flowers with clumsy hands. She takes the flowers the boy offers her willingly and adds them to the flower crown she‘s making. His heart gets heavy. He does not now this child, which memory of hers he sees in front of him.

Elven words fall from her lips once again and he can watch as she puts the finished crown on top of the child‘s dark hair. The boy giggles and reaches out to her. Lienne stands, readily picking him up. Tiny hands roam over her face, tangle into her hair and finally hold tightly around her neck. Lienne strokes the boy’s hair, whispering soothing words and slowly rocking from side to side. He nuzzles closer, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

Duty weights heavy on his shoulders, as Solas watches their close interaction. He sights, not able to draw his gaze from the two elves. Lienne turns away from him and he is granted a closer look on the child‘s face.  
The boy is no more than a year old, rosy cheeks and long lashes, framed by wild, dark curls. Something about him strikes Solas as familiar, but he‘s unable to put a finger on it.

The boy tugs himself closer, eyes shut tight and nose buried into her pale hair, he clings to her like his life depends on it. She starts to sing, an elven lullaby waking distant memories of lazy mornings and quiet evenings. Solas is surprised to still know the song by heart. She would sing it, in the faintest and softest of voices, while he read a book or painted. Hum it in the mornings, when he drew runes and sigils on her sun-warmed back. The boy sights, and Solas mirrors his action, breathing out heavily, somehow trying to get the tight feeling off of his chest.

Solas closes his eyes for just a moment, and when he opens them again, blue, large eyes stare right back at him. His heart starts racing in his chest, but he is unable to look away. The boy looks at him, eyes locked with his and otherwise completely still. Lienne is still singing, holding him tight but the boy is fixated on him.  
Solas remembers times where even Lienne noticed his presence, turning to his direction, holding her breath and listening to her surroundings but she soon carried on with her dream, his company nothing more than the rustling in the winds. But the boy stares and focuses on him and Solas unintentionally holds his breath, thinking, trying to understand what is happening and finding the only solution to be a cruel one.

Solas turns and flees the scene, flees the meadow, flees the child. He feels the boy‘s gaze long after he left.

The Fade shifts around him, and when he finally stops, he finds himself in another forest. He remembers those trees, remembers the moss and the grass beneath his feet. Long forgotten memories take shape before his eyes as the soft light of the setting sun sneaks its way through rustling leaves.  
He settles at the foot of one of the largest trees; thick, cracked bark pressing into his back. But the elf can not bring himself to care, his mind wandering to the small child. Solas leans his head against the large trunk behind him and closes his eyes.

It does not need to be what he thinks it is. Maybe the boy saw something in his dream and him staring at Solas was nothing more than a coincidence. Oh, how much he wished the boy to be a coincidence. Nothing more than another dream, a strange one, but nothing more than that.

The quiet crack of a twig startles him, and he opens his eyes once more. The soft rustling of the leaves above him, and the faint sounds of the living forest are the only noise he hears. The light shines through the canopy of leaves, letting small rays of light touch the place around him. Solas makes out small specks of dust, drifting through the air. A quiet sigh escapes his lips as he rests his head on one of his hands. He starts tugging some moss out of the ground, the soft texture tickling his palm.

Solas catches himself humming the melody Lienne sang just moments ago.  
He knows his vain heart and so he does not try to silence the tunes. It is a self-indulgent thing, but the melody is bound to fond memories he treasures far to much.

Another sound, the rustling of grass, catches his attention and his breath gets stuck in his throat as he looks up and once again meets the blue eyes of the child.  
The boy sits not far away, surrounded by moss and a few small mushrooms. Settling there with outspread legs, flower crown still in his hair, he looks at Solas and smiles.

The weight on his shoulders seems to increase again and Solas can’t help but to sigh and drop his head. With closed eyes he rubs the bridge of his nose. A futile attempt to sooth the building pain in his head.  
As he opens his eyes again, the boy still looks at him, one hand outstretched as if he wants to touch the older elf.  
Solas first impulse is to reach for the child, he lifts his hand but hesitates and lets it sink into the moss beside him again.

“Who are you?”, he asks himself more than the boy. The child is far to young to talk, but if he finds a way to answer him, Solas will know if his feared suspicion is true.  
Curious eyes watch him, locks faintly swaying in the breeze and head tilted to one side, the boy lets his hand sink before he starts crawling towards Solas.  
Right in front of him, the child once again sits down. Solas feels the tingle of magic in the air, the Fade twisting into soft swirls, distorting the forest and letting the image behind it get contorted, just like the air above a fire.

The Fade before him twists into a new image. Blurred and a bit shaky, he makes out Lienne’s face. Her skin is covered in a faint sheen of sweat, her hair undone and tangled, but she smiles and seems to look right at him. The air around him smells of blood and sweat and burned herbs. Solas realizes she’s crying and he has to remind himself that the memory before him is nothing more than colors, smells and sounds.  
One tear slips down her cheek and falls. A shaky breath leaves her lips, she sights and whispers: “Elathim.”  
Solas can’t help the urge to reach out and his fingers grasp nothing but air and with his touch, the vision fades like smoke.

The moment the memory is gone, another one manifests before him. He sees dalish arravels, red sails rustling in the wind and elves scattered on the open field. It all seems taller than he remembers it and as the view changes, he realizes that the memories are from the child’s point of view. He sees wooden figures in the grass before him, delicately carved. A tiny hand reaches for a warrior, shield and sword in hand. Solas makes out a rogue and a mage, daggers and staff swung in the air. Then he hears a chuckle, the vision shifting and looking at a pair of feet. Slowly the memory drifts upwards until Solas makes out the face of a young elven man. He smiles, collects the toys and lifts the boy onto his shoulders. The memory shifts and blurs and seems to skip some time, and when Solas is able to see clearly again, he is able to make out Lienne’s face.  
Her wide smile and gentle eyes look at him, her head slightly tilted: “There you are. I’m so glad Halen found you. Being up to some mischief again, Elathim?” Her voice has a soft mocking tone to it and she reaches out for him. Before she lifts the boy off of the shoulders of the other elf, the memory fades again.

Scattered particles of the memory still linger in the air, glistening and gleaming. The boy, Elathim, still sits and waits, smiling up at him. Solas makes no other attempt to reach out, yet he watches the child closely.  
Elathim wears simple clothes. No embroidery, no bright colors and fancy fashion. His trousers are stained with grass and dirt and his feet are bare. He notices a small anklet, made out of simply braided leather and tiny wooden beads.  
Whoever this boy is, Solas is sure Lienne made this anklet. He can’t help but look at the boy and wonder what his connection to her is. And what Elathim is even doing here.

As if he heard his thoughts, the little elf starts crawling into his lab, not waiting for his approval. Solas is too surprised to even object. Elathim settles in his lab, grabbing Solas’ woolen shirt with tiny hands and shuffles, until he finds a comfortable position. One of Solas’ hands sits on Elathim’s back, steadying him and making sure he does not fall. He neither as the heart nor the strength to distance himself and the child.  
Solas feels drained and tired. He knows he dreams and yet this strange encounter seems to swallow him whole.  
Elathim is a mage, that Solas is sure of. And a powerful one too, shaping the Fade by his own will at such a young age.  
But most of all, Elathim is a Dreamer, wandering the Fade as one of few and it somehow frightens Solas to know the boy wanders the Fade without protection.

“What are you doing here?” he murmurs and somehow hopes to get an answer once more.  
Elathim turns his head, cheek pressed against the wool of Solas’ shirt. The boy beams a smile at him and Solas can feel his lips curl upward as well. He can’t deny the boy’s happiness and his grin is contagious.  
The space between them stirs with magic and soon, Solas sees another meadow, another time.  
Again the memory is from Elathim’s point of view and Solas feels the little jump his heart makes, when he once again spots Lienne, sitting between flowers not far away.  
As if she heard his thoughts, she looks up and grins at him just like Elathim did moments ago. With outstretched arms she encourages him to come closer, and slowly, he does. The grass is taller than him and Elathim’s small hands dig into dirt and grass, press flowers to the ground and for just a heartbeat, Solas feels as if empires fall at Elathim’s touch and lives crumble before him, to rise anew. Before he can finish his line of thought, it is gone and the child is embraced in the faintest smell of lavender, hugged tight against her chest, head buried in the crook of her neck. Moments pass in which he does not move and Solas breathes her in and he knows he is a drowning man, lost in the embrace of a woman no longer close to him.

It is Lienne who moves first. He can almost feel the shaky breath leaving her lips when she pries his hands from her neck and makes him look at her.  
“You know how much I love you, right?” Her words are spoken in elven, a faint whisper reaching his ears and he can not help but to murmur his own answer, the faintest ‘Yes’ escaping himself.  
The image shakes and blurs for a moment, he hears a giggle and her soft laugh in response.

“And you know that your father will love you just as much, right?”

The words pierce his heart like an arrow, a dull pain throbbing in his chest. He knew the outcome of his choice, he knew from the beginning that whatever they had would end far too soon. Yet it does not make her words hurt any less.  
Lienne smiles at Elathim and places a faint kiss on the tip of his nose. It is the last thing Solas sees before the memory fades.

Solas eyes linger on the spot far longer than necessary. He stares and sees nothing, feels the sting behind his eyes and the realization he truly lost her, burns him from within. Time in the Fade is altered and so he does not know how long he sits there, but the boy is still as well, watching him, dark curls illuminated in the last light of the setting sun.  
Solas grants Elathim a weak smile, a pathetic attempt to cover up the deep ache his heart feels. Elathim is her child.

“I hope your father is a good man” he whispers and means it. Both of them deserve nothing less.  
Elathim’s small hands reach up to him and rest on his cheek. Tiny fingers roam over his face and the boy smiles, giggles shaking his body.

Once more the Fade swirls and twist and Solas hears Lienne’s words.  
“And you now that your father will love you just as much, right?”  
The Fade crackles around him and he sees the high walls of Skyhold, sees the trees rustling in cold and fierce gusts of mountain wind. He recognizes all the pots around him, filled with seeds Lienne found on their travels. It is a memory of a time before the seeds became to much and Lienne started planting them into the simple ground, small mounds of earth filling the garden, herbs and flowers overgrowing the once tidy place. Just then he makes her out between all the planters, dirty hands and smudges on her robe. Seeing himself walk up to her, is a rather strange experience but he remembers that time and so he watches, oddly satisfied to see the memory before him. He sneaks up behind her, hands finding their way around her waist. She yelps and laughs, twirling around to give him a rather sloppy, quick kiss, before smearing her dirty hands over his cheeks, smacking a hand full of soil into his face. She bursts out in laughter at his expression and seeing himself, he understands why she laughed that hard. When he joins her with a chuckle, the memory dissolves into thin air.

His chuckle follows him into his own dream and Elathim joins him with a burst of laughter, clapping his small hands together in pure joy. Every clap lets little sparks of magic fly from his fingertips, and Solas can’t help himself but to laugh with the boy and enjoy the pure bliss he shows him.  
When they both calm down again, Elathim shows him more memories. He can see himself dancing with her too the music at Halamshiral, sees them spending lazy afternoons in her quarters, busy nights over piles of paper and books. Elathim shows him tender, fond moments he kept close to himself for such a long time. Just as another memory scatters, Elathim shows him Lienne’s question once more.

“And you now that your father will love you just as much, right?”

With her last word, they are at the beginning again, the circle seems to close and silence settles between the to elves.  
The forest around them is getting dark, sun set behind large trees. Small glowing wisps drift around them, illuminating their surrounding with warm, soft light.  
The atmosphere is calm and peaceful, and Solas relaxes with the child snuggled up to him. His thoughts return to the memories Elathim showed him, memories he probably saw in her dreams and the thought of Elathim’s father and his unknown identity come back to him. Elathim had answered his previous asks without hesitation.  
But why would the boy show him memories of himself?

It takes Solas a while to collect his thoughts, to put the pieces together and when the last piece finds its place, Solas can’t but gasp for air, every breath he held knocked out of his lungs by the crushing realization. The boy stirs in his arms, eyes locking with his. With a shuddering breath, Solas lifts Elathim in his arms, and tugs him close, embracing his small body in a tender but desperate hug. Elathim giggles softly again, hands holding onto the collar of his shirt and eventually shifting to lock around his neck, face pressed against his shoulder.  
Happiness and pride bubble in Solas’ chest and before he knows it, hot tears fall from his eyes, leaving wet trails on his burning cheeks. But for once, he does not care, holds not back but lets his emotions overcome him fully. The knowledge of Lienne being his mother made him happy. She sure was a good mother, caring and protective. But the fact of him being his father, made his heart swell with joy and pride.

When Elathim starts to struggle against his embrace, Solas lets go of him, making sure he sits safe in his lab. Elathim’s eyes gleam with delight, cheeks flushed red and a wide smile sprawled across his face.  
“Please know that I love you just as much”, Solas whispers, almost chocking on his own tears of happiness.  
But before he can say anything else, Elathim crawls out of his lab and away from him. After he passes a few trees, the boy turns, looks over to him, waiting some moments to catch his attention. Solas’ body becomes tense, he wants to know Elathim safe and sound, but the boy has other things in mind, eventually crawling away from him and disappearing in the shadow of one of the larger trees.  
Solas has no time to wait, no time to calm his thoughts and collect his emotions.  
For he will not let Elathim walk the Fade alone.  
He can’t look out for him in the Waking World, but he can in the Dreaming and it is more than Solas ever asked for.  
He struggles to his feet and follows the boy into the darkness, a few wisps lightening his path as he goes after his son.

“Know that I love you just as much”


End file.
